The Hamilton Tavern 5517 Harford Rd. Baltimore, Md 21214

Something has to be said about being able to get a Resurrection Ale in walking distance of your home. That is why I’m going to say it, right here, right now. The Hamilton Tavern reopened just about a month ago in North East Baltimore. I say reopened because any natives to the area know that before its rehabilitation by the owners of Brewers Art, The Hamilton Tavern was just another neighborhood dive bar. Like so many that litter the streets of Baltimore. It had drop ceiling, dark dingy lighting, and a horrible jukebox. New life has been breathed into the place. Now the Hamilton Tavern is open, airy, and clean, yet the dark wood tones of the bar, stools and floor add a warmth and coziness that says "come in sit down and make yourself at home." If that isn’t enough for you then you will be all but amazed by the walls of the bathroom as you try to make more room for your favorite drink of choice. Now, I can’t speak for the ladies’ room but the men’s room is wall papered with pages from books by authors such a Bukowski, Burroughs, Kerouac, and Hemingway, just to name a few. Yes, you already have the bathroom reading material provided for you. The choice of authors’ words used to plaster the walls for a mens’ room is no less then appropriate.

On any given night you will find many locals to the Hamilton area sitting around chatting about the promise and change that a place like this is going to bring to our little sector of the world. Those locals are usually swigging down a Resurrection Ale, Ozzy, Natty Boh (in a bottle), or a Brooklyn Lager. You might find them tasting some of the delicious tidbits found on the small yet unbelievably tantalizing menu. Now don’t get me wrong, The Hamilton Tavern is not a restaurant in any sense of the word. You won’t be greeted by a hostess and asked if you liked to sit at the bar or a table. This place is first and foremost a watering hole. This is not a place where you bring a date for a nice quiet dinner. This is a place where you meet up with a friend and just so happen to stick around for the food. It a place you can go to when you need a little comfort, as my most recent experience with the Tavern provided me.

Recently I was having one of those days. You know the kind, where you stare into the abyss of time and you realize that you have nothing but your own thoughts and bad weekend afternoon televison to fill the space. It wasn’t a Sunday so there was no football to distract me from fact that I had done some bad weekend planning. What was my solution for the woes I was feeling? I would roll up to the Tavern and grab a beer and bite to eat. This would be my cure for what was ailing me.

I arrived around 8:00 P.M. assuming that the place would be empty at such an early hour on a Saturday night. To my surprise it was packed. I had to wait twenty minutes before a stool at the bar opened up. Luckily I ran into a friend and was able to pass the time with convivial conversation while I sucked down my first Resurrection Ale of the evening.

Once a stool opened up I took my seat and was greeted by Kirsten, who after this night is in the contending for one of the best bartenders in Baltimore. She poured me my second Resurrection and handed me a menu. I looked it over superficially expecting to order the burger I have eaten here before, but something caught my eye. A new menu item had been added, an open face turkey sandwich. I inquired about this new discovery and Kirsten informed me it is a part of the new seasonal menu. She highly recommended it. So I made my decision, and when my plate arrived I was happy I skipped the burger. What lay before me was not a plate filled with a turkey sandwich with gravy and mashed potatoes. What I was presented with was a plate of pure comfort. The kind that melts your heart and reminds you of campfires on a cool October night. This was no ordinary open face turkey sandwich. There was no bread to be found. The succulent shredded turkey lay on top of a bed of toasted homemade stuffing covered in the perfect amount of gravy. Right next to that were some of the creamiest mashed potatoes I have ever eaten, also covered in the right amount of gravy. This was Thanksgiving a month and a half in advance. The only thing missing was a side of cranberry sauce. One bite and all my troubles were gone. It was as if with each bite the sublime comfort this meal offered was becoming fused with my body and making me forget that awkward loneliness of earlier that day.

As I was eating, my meal was admired by a couple of other patrons to the bar, and before long I was making new friends. They both expressed their regret in not ordering the turkey sandwich. Soon another bartender joined our conversation and mention that earlier when she had the meal it gave her the warm fuzzies. Once I finished my meal I washed it down with another Resurrection. When I turned to leave, I found yet another friend and his wife sitting at a table. I sat and chatted for a while and then headed on out. I left in much better shape then I had entered, and that's why I love the Hamilton Tavern. It’s a place where pretty soon everybody will know your name and always be glad you came.